


Black Leather Bite

by sir



Category: Walking Dead
Genre: BDSM, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir/pseuds/sir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl loves the punishment just as much as the reward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Leather Bite

It was love that broke Daryl Dixon. He and Merle had the kind tumultuous relationship that would've scared off the bravest man, but this was not bravery; it was addiction. Sex was intoxicating… mind numbing. When Merle was close, all rationality faded and there was only the unshaven scratch against his throat, the musky scent rolling from his brother's body, the hands that held him down. He felt scared and sick every time Merle raised his voice and went limp every time those hands curled around his throat. Daryl loved him, but he was not loved in return.

Daryl was convinced otherwise. He felt love as Merle's large frame rubbed against his body and he felt it with every command thrown his way, commands that he was more than happy to obey. There was just enough pain, just a little too much for Daryl to handle seemed to be the perfect dose. He inhaled the sickly sweet bourbon-soaked breath that spilled from Merle's lips.

"Wake up, kiddo. Time to serve."

Merle swung onto the bed, rousing Daryl from sleep. He straddled his prey, pinning down Daryl and looking him up and down before grabbing his cheeks with one hand and moving closer to the younger man's face.

"Didn't I tell you to wait up for me? You knew I'd be using your ass tonight, whore. I'm very disappointed."

Daryl's mouth formed into an apology but a stern look from Merle stopped him in his tracks. He would be punished tonight and with Merle there was no negotiation. He had to learn to serve his Master and Merle was kind enough to take the time to train him. The younger Dixon undressed, wriggling his pants off as his Master looked on in silence, still hovering over him on the bed.

"Tell me what I need to do to you." He commanded. Nothing in Merle's voice showed displeasure, but he was almost unapproachable, emotionally detached from the moment. In his logical mindset, Daryl would know that wasn't the case, but Merle's approach always seemed to drop him into an instinctive submission drop where logic became fuzzy and the only thing on his mind was to serve and to feel whatever Merle had planned for him.

"You need to punish me. I have to learn." In contrast with Merle's level tone, Daryl's quietly husky voice was already thick with emotion. He watched Merle reach under the bed and pull out restraints. Fur-lined, wide black leather, hardware double-buckle cuffs. Obediently, Daryl offered him each wrist in silence, without being asked and watched as they were tightened around him, his arms now bound above his head. He looked on as Merle turned, remaining still as hands fastened the remaining cuffs around each of his ankles.

Merle wasn't careful as he yanked Daryl to his feet, and the younger man stumbled as his feet touched the floor, almost falling. Merle's lip curled at the corner and he felt his dick twitch at the sight of his little brother, all bound and beautiful and unmarked, waiting for his punishment.

Merle's weapon of choice was a two-pronged tawse, a beautiful, vicious leather piece. He ran a calloused hand across the shining black surface before giving it a test crack. The crisp snap caused Daryl to flinch and Merle found the smile creeping back onto his face. His boy knew what was coming.

"We're counting to thirty, kiddo, 'cause I am especially sick of your shit today," He wandered calmly behind Daryl, still running his fingers across the leather, "and don't you cry."

Daryl nodded quickly, head down like a school child being told off. He knew the rules of this game. With each lash he would count, thanking his Master each time. Merle liked to hear his voice crack and quiver, watching Daryl break down in front of him.

No warm up with a punishment and he barely waited a heartbeat, bringing the split leather down across the younger man's ass cheek with a solid crack.

Daryl gasped at the sudden slash of fierce pain across his ass cheek. He counted, voice emotional but firm.

By fifteen Merle's arm was aching and his boy's voice was hitching with a sob on every slash of the leather against her soft flesh. It was bruising, if this had been playtime he would be enjoying the thrill of marking that beautiful little butt. But it wasn't. Bright red welts marred that perfect flesh. He took a moment to soothe over the flesh with his hand, feeling the heat that poured off it. Merle punished with conviction, he demanded exquisite pain from Daryl every time, he would do his job right. Alternating one side than the other, his boy was diligent and never messed up on the count, even when it became a struggle to get the words out around the constriction of emotion in his throat.

By twenty-five Daryl's ass and thighs were on fire with the pain of each whack. He wasn't going to be sitting comfortably for a few days and that was just fine by him, he wanted to remember what he'd done every time he came to sit down. He deserved the pain for disappointing his Master, not being ready to receive him at any point. He had to always be ready to serve. Daryl's body shook with his sobs, his nose and eyes red and stinging with the tears snot from the silent cry. He wouldn't break down this time, Master would be proud of him, he wanted so badly for Merle to see he could handle it.

Merle put the tawse down at thirty and inspected his boy's ass, the skin was blistering hot in places, welts and the start of bruises forming, there were a few places where the skin was perilously close to being cut but it hadn't actually split. Placing one finger under Daryl's chin, he lifted the boy's head to match his eyes. Daryl was wet mess, shivering and desperately trying not to audibly sob, his breath hitching with every inhale. He squirmed under the older man's touch, aching to feel his Master's hands moving all over him, soothing the pain. _Please…_

In his vulnerable state, dishevelled and reddened, hardened cock standing out from his taut body and his tortured buttocks still throbbing, Daryl looked beautiful. Lovely dark eyes met Merle's own blue ones and begged him for something. Merle could no longer resist, pulling the boy to the soft, welcoming bed. He lowered Daryl gently onto his back, being careful not to hurt the boy too much - it was time for his reward, after all. Merle stripped off before joining him, being careful not to press anywhere tender.

Pressing down on Daryl, Merle began to grind. Slowly at first, the older man rolling his hips against his boy, forceful as he was, the sudden pleasure causing shivers through Daryl's bruised body.

"Do you know how hard you get me, baby brother?", Merle's hand grasped the back of Daryl's head, buried in that soft hair, Merle's forehead against his, eyes locked in, "Fuck, the things I think about doing to you…."

Daryl's head was tugged back as Merle moved down, nipping white-hot at the younger man's neck, He smiled every time he felt a pulse run through his boy, emerging as a sharp moan that makes Merle hotter than anything Daryl could say. Not that Daryl has the breath to actually say anything else right now. He does, however, find it in himself to grind back, pushing his hips against the older man. The two clutch each other tightly, moving in time and grasping each other, both men ablaze with desire, fingers trailing fire down each other's bodies.

Merle's stronger, though, and pushes his weight onto Daryl as if he was a tiger toying with his latest kill. Daryl let the power wash over him and submitted, wrapping himself around his big brother, toes moving over Merle's thick thighs and butt before wrapping around his waist. Daryl's mouth is red from kisses so hard they almost hurt, his throat burning from Merle's stubble trailing across skin. As Merle rutted harder against his quarry, Daryl responded by raking his nails down Merle's back, causing the older man to close his eyes and release a low, rumbling moan against the younger man's mouth.

The heat built up between them and became almost unbearable. Merle felt it rising inside of him and Daryl knew straight away, wrapping his fingers around the base of the older man's balls. Merle snarled into the kiss, baring his teeth against Daryl's lips and growled deep and loud as he climaxed, thick ropey strands coating both of their bellies. Daryl can't hold on now and follows suit, mouth forming into a silent scream as the mess between them thickens, both men wracked with waves of pleasure. After what seemed like an eternity of blinding climax, Merle allowed his body to break from the rigid position and he slumped down into Daryl's arms. He smiled and rolled over before inspecting the aftermath left on his torso.

Instinctively he pulled his younger brother toward him, into his space. Daryl nuzzled into his neck, smelling sweat and sex and _Merle_. Somewhere deep down, Daryl knew what he and his brother had was not love. Though not exactly sure what to call it, Daryl concluded that perhaps it was just as good


End file.
